Dharmavidya

Monday, 05 June 2017

Dharmavidya: I am reading Doug Osto’s book Power, Wealth and Women in Indian Mahayana Buddhism:The Gandavyuha-sutraAmazon

It is thorough, academic and requires concentration. but is very well written. I am finding it an absolute delight. I can imagine that Doug must be a superb teacher - lucky the students that populate his classes. Furthermore, one can feel his love of the text coming through. I am sure that putting together this work, while requiring a vast amount of research, study and reflection, was no chore even though it must have been a lot of work.

Many academic books are turgid. This one is exemplary in its clarity which is what makes it a pleasure to read. There are plenty of long complicated words, but all is explained, and in a manner that the intelligent general reader can handle. This is a gift.

The subject matter is the Gandhavyuha Sutra which tells the story of the pilgrim Sudhana who is sent by Manjushri to visit and learn from a series of spiritual friends (kalyanamtras) who are all in some sense emanations of Vairochana, the highest Buddha. In this story Vairochana is the “other power” and Sudhana is the “foolish being”, yet one who emerges as very spiritually advanced. This story became of immense importance in medieval Mahayana Buddhism as it displays in narrative form the whole devotional world view.

Osto’s treatment of the subject is not a straightforward commentary. He wants to position the narrative in terms of the society in which it came into being - India in the early centuries of the common era. In particular he clarifies the worldview of the sutra and shows what we can know from an analysis of its narrative structure and then draws out three particular dimensions - power, wealth and women - for special attention teasing out the connections between the content of the sutra and the society it was written in. As he says, “Power, wealth and gender are perennial concerns of every society.”

Sunday, 04 June 2017

Question: I read something the other day to the effect that, the universe is like an enlightenment machine, which converts ignorance into awakening. To exist is to be subject to its influence and propelled towards enlightenment regardless of the individual's intentions. This seems to correspond to the idea of buddha nature guiding the human journey towards spiritual perfection. Do you think that all beings are destined for enlightenment even though it may take forever for some to get there? Is buddhism a sort of fast-track towards this end?

Answer: I think that the answer has to be no. Although there seems to be repeated attempts throughout Buddhist history to introduce ideas of this kind, it appears to have been the teaching of Shakyamuni that nothing is inevitable. Things can go down as well as up. In fact it is this assertion of freedom and consequence that is one of the core notions of his teaching. We have freedom. If we act with good intention good consequences follow and if bad, bad. Buddhism can be seen as a fast track to a good end, yes, but there is nothing in the original teaching to the effect that everyone will inevitably arrive.

However, we also have to take on that enlightenment is not a result of an accumulation of good karma, it is an awakening and anybody might awaken however good or bad their karma is. Awakening is a function of faith and vision. It can be triggered by exposure to inspiring examples or to disaster sufficient to wake us up - often a combination of the two - but it is not something that can be contrived by a plan, programme or practice. These all generate secondary consequences, good or bad in themselves, but not constituting enlightenment.

Comment: Thanks. I thought it all sounded a bit too neat. I suppose that sort of thinking could be considered determinism?! Namo Amida Bu ( ;

Answer: Yes. Romantic determinism. Buddha was not a determinist. Though, as I say, there have been many attempts to bring in such ideas.

Tuesday, 23 May 2017

SHORT ANSWER: Truth is truth and all encompassing, but there is a relative and an absolute way of intuiting it.

LONGER ANSWER: I am inclined to say that this idea of two truths is a misnomer. It is not really that there are two types of truth. Their are two domains of understanding. These are like axes on different dimensions that intersect but do not interfere with one another. If you wanted to be philosophical, you could say that the question is epistemological rather than ontological. I shall try to explain my take on the matter.

In order to live we have to have faith. We might call it faith in life, or faith in the universe, or faith that existence is somehow worthwhile. It does not matter. These are really just turns of phrase. Faith does not need to have an object or content, necessarily. It is a universal foundational quality. It is universal and foundational, but it can vary in degree, intensity and application. In application it can have a content or object, by which I mean that we can invest it in this or that.

If a person’s faith is weak or confused it is an impediment to functioning in life. In that condition, it is hard to get out of bed in the morning. Clients who come into psychotherapy can sometimes be in that condition. At times we might find ourselves there. Some experiences tend to unify our faith and some shatter it.

Mostly people function by investing their faith in love (or hate) objects and projects. This keeps faith unified and concentrated (samadhi). This is what gets us going and keeps us striving. Yet these objects and objectives, even religious ones, all reside within the domain of samsara. Consequently, they are impermanent. We know that they are not ultimate, permanent, or completely reliable, even in a practical sense. It follows that our investment of faith in them cannot be total. Unconditional love does not exist within samsara.

Nonetheless, the intuition of unconditional faith and love is so much a part of us that we cannot do without it. We cannot avoid having an intuition of nirvana. We might call it different things according to our culture, but we cannot rid ourselves of it. Sometimes we might try to do so when in the grip of an impulse to reconstruct ourselves as “modern” people, or as rational and “no nonsense”, but even doing this implies that we do have faith that there is truth that is not falsehood and that this exists as an independent and ultimate yardstick that is implicitly not to be found exemplified in imperfect, impermanent phenomena. We live in a world of relativities, but cannot avoid appeal to an ultimate domain that can only be intuited, yet is necessarily intuited. There are thus always these two domains, the relative and the ultimate.

For example, although we never actually encounter it empirically, we all have an intuition of unconditional love and this plays a major role in our lives, even though we never actualise it. Nonetheless, it would not be nonsense to say that, for this same very reason, we are always encountering it, always realising it, precisely because every imperfect instance of relative being points to it. When Kashyapa gives Gotama a flower, this is not the ultimate gift. It is only a flower. It is already beginning to wilt. Yet, at the same time it is the ultimate gift for it signifies that love that surpasses all understanding. There are thus two truths. Therefore, Shakyamuni halved his seat and shared it with Kashyapa. Kashyapa’s human love for Gotama was inevitably less than perfect. There were times when his argumentative nature must have been a disappointment and a trial for his guru, but still, “behind” or “beyond” all that the perfect flower still floated in space.

Thus when Kashyapa holds up the flower and Shakyamuni winks, both relative and ultimate truth are manifest. The two dimensions do not interfere with each other. Who winks? What winks? Kashyapa and Shakyamuni have both disappeared and flowers fill the firmament.

Friday, 12 May 2017

Settled faith is anshin. An-shin literally means "the heart-mind at peace". We can speak of different modes or dimensions of faith and anshin is one of them. Thus we can distinguish between anshin, shinjin, bodaishin and abhilasa. The first three terms are Japanese and the last Sanskrit.

Shinjin means the kind of faith that suddenly dawns upon one. It is the experience of awakening or conversion. It may have the form of satori, or, in more traditionally Pureland terms, it is the experience of being "seized by Amida, never to be abandoned." It is the dawning of certainty and confidence. It is the time of turning. The Pureland scriptures say that one has only to turn one's heart toward Amida in order to be filled with grace and assurance. This, therefore, is a kind of ecstasy or catharsis.

Such heightened experiences are indelible, but do not continue on such a high pitch. They mellow and settle. Where, in shinjin, Amida may fill one's consciousness, in anshin, that faith has settled into the background of one's being. One does not think about it all the time, but it resurfaces frequently enough. In fact, every little act of life is somehow touched by it, as though the quality of the light in which one sees things has subtly altered. Life has a glow that was not there before.

When such settled faith is established it particularly manifests in two ways. The first of these is abhilasa, which is willingness. This position is sometimes likened to the good inn-keeper by the roadside. Travellers come along and one caters for them all. Some are rich, some are poor, some are good natured, some are surly, some are excellent guests while others make a mess or create trouble. Nonetheless, the good inn keeper welcomes them all, refreshes and rests them and then sees them on their way. This is a condition of non-possessive goodwill, wishing only that others thrive in their own way and succeed in their journey, along their particular path.

The second is bodaishin or bodhichitta. This is the "way seeking mind". It is also the path of self-abandonment in the service of all sentient beings. It is the mind of the bodhisattva. Here faith takes the form of spiritual altruism. Where abhilasa receives whatever comes, bodhichitta goes forth seeking ways to be of service. This is the path of the spiritual knight errant riding out from Shambhala, seeking the grail and rescuing all those in distress whom he meets along the way. In a sense, abhilasa and bodhichitta are two sides of the same coin.

We can see that settled faith is the enduring foundation. It is the maturing of shinjin into something solid and reliable, an inextinguishable flame. From that light the motivations of bodhichitta and abhilasa arise naturally. If one has the inner peace that comes from a settled faith, then there is no inner obstacle to one's going forth and whatever comes to you will inevitably be experienced simply as another step on the path. This is the epic of Buddhism, the flowing forth of the heart of the tathagata in its quest to save all sentient beings.

This is operationalised in the teachings of Honen in the act of senchaku. When one makes a decisive choice to enter into the refuge offered by the Buddhas and cries out "Namo Amida Bu", this is not a narrowing, but an opening up. All practices, all circumstances, and all conditions are suddenly transformed into the path of enlightenment. Fundamentally this is no different to the path of tantra or the path of zen – it is sudden awakening to the great liberation. This does not depend upon a particular practice. It is not a technical achievement. It is a turning.

When we are uncertain about something we feel anxiety. When the matter is settled that anxiety drops away. This can be happening at many levels. One can be anxious about whether there is sugar for the tea, or one can be anxious about whether the enemy are going to invade. There are many levels and degrees. The most profound level is spiritual. The person who is settled at the spiritual level will still experience all the lesser anxieties, but they will not go so deep, because below them is established the bedrock of anshin. With that basis one is “irreversible”. Spiritual progress is then inevitable. It may take a long time, but one's ocean of greed, hate and delusion has a limit, a bottom. That bottom is Amida.

Fundamentally, transformation of the human mind occurs abruptly. If one discovers that a person one had always regarded as a friend has betrayed one, one's view and feeling change immediately. One's sense of security in the world is impacted directly. This impact generalises to many aspects of one's being, and it all happens quickly.

Thought does not happen slowly. A karmic act is committed and the effect is immediate, even though it might not manifest for a long time. When that effect is triggered, it appears directly. So, in general, the mind is characterized by punctuated equilibrium. States remain until they change. When they change, it happens straight away. For this reason, therapeusis occurs in moments. Although one might see a client for many sessions, the therapeutic effect occurred in a few short moments. The rest was preparation and working through.

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Nien means mindfulness. It also means an impulse of mind. The Japanese form is “nen” which becomes “nem-” in terms like nembutsu. Fo means Buddha. Thus Nien Fo is the Chinese equivalent to nembutsu in Japanese. The characters are the same. So nien fo is mindfulness of Buddha or the Buddha impulse in the brain. Every moment of mental connection with Buddha is nien fo. This, therefore, is the most fundamental and irreducible atom of Buddhism, or, we can say, of refuge.

Nien Fo is, therefore, the gateway to all possible dimensions of Buddhist practice and it is enough in itself. All other forms of practice are extensions, elaborations, supports to or derivatives from nien fo. If the practice is not mentally connected with Buddha then it is not Buddhist practice and if one is so connected then the practice, whatever it might be, is an extra flourish, a decoration of the fundamental gateway which is nien fo. So, on the one hand, we can say that all Buddhist practices are simply different ways of operationalising nien fo; and, on the other hand, when nien fo is established, nothing more is actually necessary.

Thus Honen Shonin talked of the importance of senshaku – a selection. When we choose nien fo we establish ourselves in the light of the Buddhas, we open ourselves to them and their Dharma. If we have made such a choice truly and profoundly then everything we do will become Buddhist practice.

Traditionally, the method of establishing Buddha in one's mind in this way was by meditation. However, all “methods” have pitfalls. The pitfall of meditation is the danger of falling into self-power. One may readily start to think of meditation in much the same way as one might think of going to the gym – as a way of enhancing one's own power and ability. Rather than opening one to the power of the Buddhas, one starts to see it as a self-training for purposes of self-enhancement. This does not have to be so, but it is a common mistake.

In a valid sense there is no method for establishing one's connection with Buddha, any more than there can be a method for falling in love. Of course, one can do some things. If one wants to fall in love then it is no good hiding oneself away. If one wants to connect with Buddha one has to make oneself available. If we put ourselves in the places and amongst the people where the influence of Buddha is strong, then we are much more likely to find this refuge.

Then there is great power in the Name. When we say a name, we bring the object to mind. When we do so often, it starts to live within us. When everything we do is associated with that name, then that influence is never far away and begins to saturate our being.

Saying the name can carry a million different emotions. Sometimes one feels great gratitude that one's karmic continuum has somehow become manifest in a world where Buddhas are, have taught and have brought the Dharma into the world, where it is possible to make offerings and even to offer one's life in one way or another. Sometimes one feels hope and longing, begging the Buddhas to remain in the world teaching the Dharma. Sometimes one feels awe and amazement that there are kalyana mitras – spiritual friends – able to reflect that Dharma and help beings along the path. Sometimes one is lost in one's own worries and troubles, yet through the nembutsu one finds a calmer place.

The practice of nien fo can be associated with a visualisation of Amitabha or of the great bodhisattvas or the Pure Land of Sukhavati, yet this is not essential. It may be practised sitting in the lotus position or during mindful walking or in some other yogic procedure – all of these are good, but, again, not essential. The Buddha gave us any number of practices. The practice with nien fo is powerful. The practice without nien fo is an empty shell.

Perhaps the most valuable practice is making offerings. If our offering expresses nien fo, then it is a true offering and the physical act of making the offering, of generosity, of letting go, or expressing love for the Buddhas... these all enhance the nien fo impulse and help to make it real. In some approaches to Buddhism, making offerings is seen as only a preliminary practice, but when we read the great scriptures we read time and again that this or that bodhisattva became a Buddha because of making offerings to myriads of Buddhas. Nien fo is itself the ultimate offering and it makes all offerings deeply meaningful and loving.

ANSWER: Buddha nature is no nature. Different writers use the concept in different ways, so to elucidate it one needs to clarify which Buddha nature concept one is referring to. Thus, for instance, there is a common idea that Buddha nature is somehow the core or essence of the person - a kind of soul. This is an idea that has infected Buddhism from time to time, but is not in accord with the principles of non-self, dependent origination and emptiness that are fundamental to the teachings of Shakyamuni. It is more a Hindu or even humanistic psychology idea. A Buddha does not have a fixed nature. A Buddha simply has an absence of malice. However, it has been a problem in the presentation of Buddhism historically that people search for and cling to "positive" forms of expression of the Dharma and this then leads to the coining of many forms of upaya (skilful means). Thus the idea of Buddha nature does not go back to Shakyamuni, but seems to have been invented in the dialectic between Buddhism and other religions. In the West today it is a popular idea because ideas of soul are deeply embedded in Western culture and although people may think they have rejected the theistic ideas, they reinvent them. The soul then becomes the "self-actualising tendency" and so on, and Buddha nature can then be easily saddled onto the same horse. From time to time great teachers - like Nagarjuna - have to come along and dismantle all these constructions. In the meantime, however, if people find them helpful then they are not entirely bad, simply something that will have to be left behind one day.

The idea that there may be something called Buddha nature "within" oneself, therefore, is non-Buddhist. Nagarjuna would no doubt have said that were there any such entity then either it acts or it does not act. If it acts (i.e. if it is the doer of one's "good" deeds, for instance) then it cannot be eternal and must be subject to change, and if it does not act then it has no relevance to life and existence and so is a meaningless idea. Neither way can it really function as one's "true nature". There is no special agent "within" that is responsible for our good and wise actions any more than there is a devil within responsible for our bad and stupid ones. We can loosely and colloquially say that a person is part angel and part devil and so long as we take such expressions lightly and poetically they make sense, but if we try to reify them into a spiritual anatomy of the person we go astray. Buddhism is opposed to that kind of reification in all its varieties.

All this led to a good deal of controversy in Japan in what is called the "critical Buddhism controversy". There is excellent material all about it in the book Pruning the Bodhi Treee by Hubbard & Swanson. There is also a shorter account in my own book The New Buddhism. It is, for instance, sometimes thought that a belief in Buddha nature will make people into better people and insofar as it is simply an expression for seeing the best in others there is much to say for it. However, it has also been pointed out that the deeper logic of the idea that there is an indestructible core of goodness in people leads to the conclusion that it does not matter how badly you treat them because you will never destroy their core anyway, so it does not matter. This idea is strongly developed in the Bhagavad Gita and it is ideas of this kind that Shakyamuni was preaching against. The Critical Buddhists in Japan argue that this line of thinking lies behind many forms of social discrimination in Japanese sectarian Buddhism. We do not need to pursue every detail - sufficient to observe that ideas can be played both ways.

There can also be a kind of subtle arrogance in the idea of thinking that one "has" Buddha nature. It is much safer spiritually to keep one's focus upon one's avidya, upon one's blindness and short-comings. Perhaps I do have a perfect inner nature - so what? Perhaps I have a nature to make mistakes, to hurt people, to be vulnerable - so there is much to do and a basis for fellow-feeling with others. If a person really does have a buddha-ly nature then that person is probably not particularly - if at all - aware of it. It might be noticed by others, but even if the person is told so by such an observer, the person in question is likely to say, "Oh, no, no, I'm just an ordinary foolish being."

Thus, in Pureland, the emphasis is upon our bombu nature. This is the root of compassion, modesty and gratitude. It is also the foundation of faith. If one were already of the nature of Buddha, what need would one have of the help of the Buddhas - one would already have everything one needs. It is only when and as I acknowledge my bombu nature that I open myself to the possibility of being helped, of receiving a grace that may lift me out of my karmic plight.

Paradoxically, when I make such an act of humble faith, I do immediately participate in a certain way in the freedom and emptiness of the Tathagatas, since doing so involves letting go of all that I previously had clung to as my nature, and that is how Buddhas are - having no fixed nature, just willing to be whatever is needed, gratefully receiving whatever comes along.

Another slight, yet relevant, tangent to this line of thought is the question of awareness. As just pointed out, the buddha-ly person is not aware of being buddha-like. Saints are generally humble people more conscious of their sins than their virtues. The common idea that spiritual awakening is a function of becoming aware of one's Buddha nature is, therefore, well wide of the mark. To have a buddha-ly nature means to be somebody who acts in the manner of a Buddha quite naturally and when we do things quite naturally we are not especially aware of them. A Buddha is not acutely aware - a Buddha is a natural. Thus Dogen, in Genjokoan, says that enlightened people are not necessarily aware of being so. Certainly, Buddha nature is not a kind of awareness.

Monday, 10 April 2017

TEXT: Amida will receive you and you may fear for nothing since all is completely assured

Continuing the commentary upon Summary of Faith and Practice

To be received and accepted as one is is the greatest wonder. To live in fear of rejection, although it inevitably includes a large element of fantasy, can be crippling psychologically. To be in a relationship in which one builds up hopes that “this time all will be well,” only to experience more rejection in the event, can be extremely wounding. Yet, all of these wounds are actually make-believe - just the shadow side of our own investments of hope and longing, our taking refuge in what is incapable of fulfilling such hope. We convince ourselves that we cannot live without the love of this or that person, this or that possession, this or that status in the eyes of the world, but this is not really true. One’s physical lifespan may be ended by a bomb or by starvation or a disease, but one’s love is not ended thereby. There is a “love that transcends understanding” that is a true refuge and is embodied in the Buddhas. That higher love - true love - knows no rejection.

Strangely, it is only the simple mind that knows this. The clever mind has a million complex doubts and calculations, but the simple reality of life is not encompassed by them. This is why the modern attitude often fails to yield real compassion, love, sympathy or peace, for all its sophistication. My teacher produced a book of Zen teachings. Her own teacher wanted the book to be called “Zen is Eternal Life”. My teacher realised that with that title nobody in the West would be interested. When the book first came out the publisher entitled it “Selling Water by the River” - a much more catchy title for the modern audience. For later editions, however, the other title was used - but only the aficionados buy Zen is Eternal Life even though the contents of the book remain the same. The modern person does not want eternal life. Only mundane things are permitted now. Hearts are no longer to be allowed to soar in religious ecstasy.

In the ordinary, mundane world, which is the only world that the modernly educated person is allowed to dwell in, one never actually encounters such complete acceptance. Yet the intuition of it lives in our hearts. Therefore, we look for it. We look for it in our loved ones and this is dangerous because when they turn out to be human we then criticise them for not being so perfect as to satisfy the intuition of unconditional love and acceptance that lives within us, like a memory of another world that we are not allowed to remember.

Pureland, however, is an ecstatic religion. It centres upon the anamnesis of that other world, the world before birth, whence children come “trailing clouds of glory”. And when we meet evidence that hints at that glory, the effect upon us is profound, and this is what the practitioner finds in his or her encounter with Amitabha. Here and there, in life, ordinary circumstance comes close to it - the gratuitous act of generosity, such as the one that triggered the enlightenment of Shakyamuni Buddha. When we encounter something like that it can be as if we fall through an invisible wall that has bounded our life. At such a moment we discover that that wall is illusory, that from the prison we have built for ourselves it is actually possible to walk out through the walls, for they are only stuff of our own imaginary making.

Psychotherapy depends upon this effect. Although the therapist is not a Buddha, she can occupy some approximation to that part for the limited time of a session, accepting the client to a degree that they rarely if ever encounter elsewhere. This has an opening effect upon the soul and energies pour out that otherwise remain trapped in the treacle of fear and doubt. Spiritual guidance is the same. The kalyana mitra transmits the knowledge of this love and is able to do so not through his or her own power, but because the grace of Amitabha flows through them. The disciple may then sense the boundlessness intuitively. Although the kalyana mitra may appear to be an ordinary person, she or he reflects the light of Amitabha simply by not posing. When we have simple faith, it is like taking off our fancy disguise; then, this unconditional love comes to meet us and enshrouds us, hiding our nakedness. Then we know that all is completely assured. That even if we fall into the fire at the end of the kalpa, that transcending love cannot be destroyed.

Thursday, 06 April 2017

The book Anna Karenina begins with the statement “All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” In my observation, almost the opposite seems to be true. Happy people are each uniquely engaged in life whereas unhappy people, turned inwardly upon themselves, are thereby reduced to a kind of uniformity.

Unfortunately, the unhappy ones do seem to be in the majority, though there is a strong modern social convention that places an injunction upon people to put on a cheerful face, whatever may be happening at a deeper level. The syndrome of critical mind in which a person cannot help finding fault is, consequently, extremely common, as the hidden shadow struggles to get out. Freud was probably right when he wrote that most people live lives of quiet desperation.

I am happier these days than I have been at any time in my life. I'd have to go back to infancy to find a parallel. Perhaps I'm in my second childhood. I do, therefore, ponder upon what happiness is. What is the anatomy of happiness? When I do so I see that there is what could be called a positive and a negative side to it and, in many respects, the negative side seems more causative, permitting the positive. I mean the term negative here is a purely technical sense. It makes me realise why the Buddha framed so many of his teachings and injunctions in negative form. He talks about non-self, non-hate, non-greed, non-delusion and so on and says that these are the keys to spiritual progress. I used to find this puzzling, but now it all makes sense.

This is also why Buddhism is liberation. When I ask myself how much has Buddhism contributed to my happiness I can see that the answer is that it has contributed a lot and it has contributed it in this negative fashion. Buddhism in general has largely taken away my greed and hate - my acquisitive possessiveness and my resentments and animosities. Pureland has then taken away my anxiety. These removals have made a lot of space which then gets naturally filled by all the beauty and fascination of life and of the things around me that I would have missed had I been more inwardly preoccupied.

When I look back on my younger life I can see that I was anxious much of the time and sometimes it was paralysing. I used to be particularly anxious when things were going well. At such times a dark cloud always hovered, with a sense of impending doom. Good fortune could never last. In bad times one at least knew what was bad whereas in good ones anything could be just about to happen. All that seems to have gone. I no longer experience anxiety as a day to day companion as I used to.

It is often said that happiness comes from within and involves ceasing to be engaged with outward things, and I can see what people mean when they say such things, but it is not literally true. Happiness is found in engagement with outward things in the right way and that right way only comes naturally when a lot of the inward junk has been junked.

Of course, even the greed, hate and anxiety do have some place in the scheme of things. There are times when it is the right course to pitch oneself against something. There are times when it is to hang onto and preserve something. There are times when it is quite appropriate to remain in a high adrenaline state because difficulties are looming that are going to require a more than normal response. Probably there is nothing in us that does not have some natural usefulness. Things are only “pathological” when they go on and on independently of any corresponding genuine provocation - when we are, in a sense, addicted to them and they are inside us rather than spontaneous responses to corresponding stimuli in the real world.

So it all makes a lot of sense that Buddhism talks of the ultimate state as one of emptiness. The emptiness is a basically happy space that can welcome everything that comes along. To fall into that space, however, involves a kind of faith or willingness and does not seem to be something that one can do just by following a recipe.

I'm an Acharya (a senior teacher) with the Order of Amida Buddha, which is a Pureland Buddhist Order. I'm a minister, teach on-line and hold Pureland Buddhist sangha gatherings in Perth, Scotland. I mainly write about Buddhist matters and share the teachings of the Head of our Order, Dharmavidya David Brazier